The Secret Life of Stills
by NothingIcanSay
Summary: (BREAK. Be back in a week.) A new gallery had opened up in the artist's alley featuring the shots of the famous photographer, Kiku Honda. Each photo seemed to have a deeper story to them, but when prompted, Kiku would crack a secretive smile and say "That is the Secret life of Stills". Drabble set! Daily updates (probably). Multiple pairings/genres/characters featured.
1. Introduction

I wrote _'The Secret Life of Stills'_ as another layout experiment. It's also a commemoration of a few of my anniversaries. My first anniversary with my beloved, my 3rd anniversary as a photographer, and my 6th anniversary as a writer. For today, only the introduction will be present. It'll be the one who sets down the whole mood of the gallery. The first drabble will come the following day. So, it's a drabble a day for…hm…it depends. We'll see. By the way, _Stills_ refer to a photograph. A _Sintra board _is a board with multiple uses; for photo printing and cosplay props as well the construction of other items such as doll houses for display. I have a few photos printed on a Sintra board and it's gorgeous.

* * *

_**.**_

_**The Secret life of Stills**_

_**Introduction**_

_._

* * *

Spring Street is a lovely little road.

The brick fronts were painted in pastel hues, such as blue yellow, or red, and others were white. Vines crept up the walls and tangled themselves upon the iron balcony a floor above, some even reaching up to the roof. Most of the buildings follow the standard shape of a rectangle; most of them three stories high and a few meters wide. It's a welcoming little place with the cobble stone paths. It's almost as if it came right out of an Italian post card of the sort. It's known as the artist's alley. There's always a new gallery opened each month. People often came down to see whatever the studios had to offer.

For this month, one Kiku Honda had rented the largest studio flat running along the street. He followed a minimalist idea, having had the walls painted white and dividers set up to accommodate a large amount of photographs. He had them printed on a special sintra board, not exactly wanting to frame his pieces. He felt like it were more impressive that way. There's also a little cost cutting going on. He pays more to have everything printed and framed. It hurts his wallet.

He hung photographs up meticulously, situating an ambient light to shine down on them brightly, while the studio remained under a dim glow. He believed that that way, it gave more emphasis to his photographs. He had, after all, worked so hard with his latest collection. He had hammered down faux gold name plates under each photograph, simply telling the title of the piece, where it was taken, and when it was taken. No other details were given.

Other than the photographs, various installation art sculptures are scattered throughout the corners of the gallery as well, though that is a focus for some other time. He had set up a center room as well, with plush red couches and a small bar where the guests are free to drink and mingle if they wished. On the coffee table were little booklets about the gallery arranged in a neat, cascading stack. There were more copies under the table, as seen under the glass. It just held the artist's words, an index of all the photos in a small thumbnail together with the title, and a quick description. Waiters and waitresses were to go around offering a few shots of wine and a little finger food on the opening night.

It took half a month to set up everything properly, but Kiku was ready now. He had personally handwritten _'The Secret Life of Stills' _on the glass window of the studio's façade just to make sure it turns out well. He stood before the crowd that had gathered on the opening night, all eager to see what his gallery had held. Kiku nodded at them, welcoming them quickly with a few words as his camera hung around his neck like the dutiful partner it always was. And he turns to face the red ribbon that blocks the door and brandishes a pair of silver scissors before he snips the ribbon in half and welcomed in every visitor as they went in through the door.

The small man wanders around his gallery, hands in his back as the visitors mingle and browse through the photographs, each smiling and some even debating as they hovered over certain pieces and struck up various conversations. Some of the people in his photographs were present as well. Imagine their delighted surprise to see themselves on a photograph. As Kiku passed by them, they would often share a friendly smile since Kiku _knew _their story. It was their well shared secret.

So when curious eyes had decided to pull the man often from his peaceful stroll around his gallery and asked the story behind a certain photograph, Kiku would only cast a glance at the photo and smile a knowing smile. He doesn't say anything. He never betrayed the secret. All he simply told the unknowing guests was simple.

"_That is the Secret Life of Stills."_


	2. Photo 1: Clandestine

**I forgot to mention it in the introduction, but my stories are best viewed in the 1/2 format setting.**

**Characters: **England (Arthur Kirkland), Scotland (Ian Kirkland)

**Type of Pair: **Familial Pairing

**Word Count: **680

* * *

"Are they lovers?"

Kiku's ears perked up at the question. He stopped, turning his head to glance at the two people who hovered before a photograph, intently staring and trying to decipher what it really meant. The Japanese smiled at the image. He was amused with the reaction because, no, lovers wasn't the right term to put it. Sure, the two men in the photograph seemed like it, but it was so different.

"Ridiculous!" The man's companion exclaimed, lightly slapping him at the back. "I'm sure they aren't lovers! They're good friends! We should ask Kiku." The other turns his head to look over his shoulder and scans the crowd. His eyes land on Kiku, who had not yet began to walk off.

"Hey, Kiku! Come 'ere."

The curator obliged, coming closer upon the call. He placed on a small smile. "How may I help you?" he questioned.

"Are these two lovers or what?" The one who had asked if they were lovers questioned. He seemed to want to believe that they are. Kiku Honda merely shrugged at the question and looked straight at the painting. He was silent for a moment, taking in the finer details and the other two followed suit. It took a while before Kiku spoke again. "What do you think are they talking about that makes you think they're friends or lovers?" Kiku merely questioned.

* * *

**TITLE: Clandestine**

_On a cold autumn day, the orchard looks different. Fallen leaves in hues of yellow, orange and gold decorate the cement path, and tall, twisting crooked trees flanked the sides. The branches held an abundance of leaves that created a gorgeous canopy that glowed gold as it protected the visitors from the harsh rays of the sun._

_Along the path, a red haired man dressed in black pushed a wheelchair, having taken out his companion for a walk. A blond man with thick eye brows and pallid white skin sat, the union jack scarf he wore barely concealing the flush of his cheeks. He was looked up at his red headed friend, eyes dropping from the lack of rest and he was talking. The other had his eyes closed, head tilted down as if he were listening._

* * *

It was good to be outside. Arthur loved the smell of fresh air and the feel of sunshine upon his skin. He missed this natural coldness of the world around him, the way the harsh autumn hair bit against his skin and tinted it red. He missed the sight of misting breath whenever he exhaled. How long had it been since had gone outside? It had been quite a while. It saddened Arthur that he couldn't walk. Though in this very moment, it didn't matter. He was outside. He was out in the world, far away from the confines of a hospital room and away from the itchy material of medical gowns.

Arthur loved this moment. He wanted to freeze this scene. If it were frozen in time, maybe he could go on like this and the day would never end. He wouldn't have to go back and get hooked up to those machines again. He won't be stuck in a warm room with the static of tv and all that white. All that dreaded white. It was bad on his eyes. It burned his retinas. The never ending smell of alcohol and disinfectant had become normal. Hospital food offered no form of comfort.

"Enjoying the outside, little brother?"

Arthur looked up, green eyes locking with his half-brother's blue ones and he scoffed, before looking away.

"It's been a while since you've actually called me _brother_, Ian."

Silence.

Truth be told, Arthur wasn't expecting any of his half brothers to visit him. They all talk once in a while, though sometimes it comes off as a little strained. After all, as children they all used to beat each other up and loathed having to see each other. Ever since he was hospitalized for his illness, his two other brothers only ever sent get well soon postcards and maybe flowers once in a while, but they never visited. Ian, on the other hand, gave him nothing. Not even a phone call, text, or so much of a peep. So it had surprised a sick Arthur to see his redheaded brother turn up one in his hospital room today with a pair of trousers, a scarf, and a coat just to take him outside with proper permission.

Arthur took in another deep breath, savoring the prickly scent of autumn.

He shut his eyes and simply let himself feel the nature around him as Ian pushed him along on the wheel chair. Invigorating. It would probably do him some good to have come out like this. He doesn't look exactly healthy. When Arthur had looked into a mirror, he looked too white for his own tastes. Lack of color, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair didn't have its healthy glow either. It was dull. Too dull to look at. His thick eye brows already looked funny, but contrasted against his sickly skin it looked terrible. He looked quite dead to himself. Maybe he was a ghost.

"If I…"

Arthur began.

"If I pass, would you miss me?" He questioned, slowly opening his eyes as he looked up at his brother.

Ian didn't look down at him. He just scoffed. "The bloody hell are you talking about, Arthur?"

The response made the ghost of a smile appear on Arthur's lips. The Scott may be rough and gruff and nothing short of brutal, but when it came to talks such as this, his answers are usually what Arthur was looking for. It was a strange sort of comfort. He didn't feel like he was getting any better regardless of the treatment he has been receiving. He only continued to feel weak. He had given up hope.

Ian stopped.

"Look here, you git."

Arthur didn't look up directly. He aimlessly looked straight forward for a moment before he looked up at his brother.

"You will get better." The Scott had harshly said, roughly pulling up Arthur's scarf to conceal his chapped lips.

They fall silent, and Arthur shuts his eyes as he looks away. For once he finds himself actually smiling and content.

"Indeed."

* * *

"I don't know." The man shrugged. The other man shook his head. "Do you know, Mister Honda?"

Kiku's gaze breaks away as his memory of the brothers are interrupted. A small smile curls on his lips as he glanced at the both of them before turning and taking a few steps. He stopped. "I don't know."

* * *

**A/N:**

Well, England's sick here but he definitely isn't gonna die. He's actually slated to appear again in a later "photograph" though I won't give hints on when exactly.

Oh and as a heads up, I'm actually going to the beach this Friday. I'm actually gonna be back on Saturday, but I'm most likely gonna rest up and prepare for the convention the next day. So depending on my mood, we might have the following:

a) Double update Thursday and double update Saturday

b) Triple update Saturday (to make of for Friday and Sunday)

or c) we don't update at all on Friday and Sunday.

We'll see when the time comes. A or B is most likely since I do have most of the photographs plotted already, just in need of a proper drabble. But this concludes today's daily update of _The Secret Life of Stills_. See you in tomorrow's update!


	3. Photo 2: Lovesong

We have a steady flow of updates this week, so the 21st up to the 27th is settled. The pairs for the 2nd week (28th up to May 4th) are under review. It has also been decided that _'The Secret Life of _Stills' will end at around the last week of May to make way for the opening of my next college semester. I'm not sure if I'll completely end it there or settle for a new update schedule. It depends on how constant the ideas still come. Also, the Nyotalia and 2P version may be present as well.

**Characters: **Nyotalia Italy (Felicia Vargas) and Germany (Ludwig Beilschmidt).

**Pairing type: **One sided romance

**Word count: **906

* * *

"Hey! You're the girl in the picture!"

An unsuspecting Italian was pulled away from her conversation.

Felicia was thankful her wine didn't spill all over her dress. It would ruin the fabric. This was one of her nice dresses too. She brushed away the invisible dirt before a sweet smile curled on her soft lips and looking at the woman who had rather rudely pulled her away from her companions. "Hmmm?" She sweetly questioned, indicating she was listening.

The woman motioned towards a photograph.

"That's you, right? I mean, I know you're the club's singer, but I wasn't expecting to see this!"

Her honey gold orbs glanced at the picture. Her smile fell. Felicia broke her gaze away, looking around for the photographer and she found him, the small Japanese man standing in a nearby corner, looking down at his camera as he fiddled with the zoom on his lens. He seemed to have noticed someone was staring since he had looked up and their eyes locked.

* * *

**TITLE: Lovesong**

_The club was dimly lit, all tables silent with their eyes averted towards the small stage. A spot light glowed brightly over the lovely form of a woman sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage, legs crossed at her ankles as her silver heels glittered under the bright light. A microphone was perched before her on a stand. She was dressed tastefully in a black dress, fine brown curls held back into a pony tail with a stubborn curl sticking out. She was smiling as she spoke, honey gold eyes wandering to something beyond the audience—something that isn't there._

* * *

Felicia Vargas, as usual, was present that night for her daily performance. She sat before her audience, sitting in all her glory as she smiled at them, all poised like a proper lady as her honey gold eyes scanned the room. "Good evening everyone." She chirped, and most of the souls present had greeted her back. She took the opportunity to smile a little wider. "I hope you're having a good time tonight. I mean, it's a really great night to be out. The starts are twinkling very nicely today, don't you think?" She questioned with a light chuckle at the end. "For tonight though, I would like to begin my performance with a song dedicated to a special someone." She mentioned, eyes finally trailing off, looking to a world beyond her audience as she thought of someone dear to her heart. "And so tonight, I'll be singing to you _'Lovesong'_. Originally by The Cure, though Adele's version is great as well."

The opening chords began to play and Felicia began to tap her foot to the rhythm, eyes remaining unfocused. She felt herself tune into the music and feel the mood. She thought of _him_ and it made her smile. He wasn't in the club since he doesn't usually come around, but regardless, Felicia had wanted to sing this song for him. It wasn't long before Felicia's lips parted and she began to sing.

"_Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again…"_

She wasn't a great singer, oh no, but the Italian certainly had charm and a good voice. It was in the way her perfectly glossed lips curled when she smiled, the way her lips gently parted as she brought a hand to her lips just to laugh. Felicia wasn't exactly the most beautiful woman on the planet, but she was definitely charming. It was in the way she carried herself and the way she presented herself. Her simplicity and her words. Simple innocence. Felicia knew what power she held when she smiled and she looks forward to smiling at people each day, not to flirt with them or the like but as a gift. Who knows whose day she could've brightened up with a simple smile and a heartfelt compliment. It spoke in volumes. People usually took it that Felicia was usually being her sweet-natured self when it came to these things. Usually, she is. But not in regards to one Ludwig Beilschmidt.

"_Whenever I am I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again…"_

When it came to Ludwig Beilschmidt, Felicia meant whatever she was saying. Simply because she felt different for him. The mention of his name created this light butterfly sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the prospect of even seeing him made her smile uncontrollably while her heart began to beat wildly. Seeing him had always made her feel better, even during a bad day. All the more when he does _smile_-for Felicia, it felt as if her whole being was about to explode into a million pieces simply because of the happiness that washed over her. She loved how he made her feel. It was refreshing and downright pleasant. If this was what you call love, then Felicia would swim in this emotion for years. She liked it when he had his icy blue eyes on her and solely on her.

"_However far away, I will always love you."_

But then Ludwig never looked at her like that. Because he only ever saw her as a friend, nothing more and nothing less. No matter how much Felicia tried to charm her way into his heart, it just wouldn't work. Simply because he didn't see her in that way and he always had thought she was being friendly. Felicia couldn't even bear the idea of telling Ludwig that she loved him either. She couldn't bear the thought of being rejected; the thought of heart break. She knew he'd probably thank her for being truthful, though she wasn't sure how she would react. The last thing she wanted to show him was her crying face.

"_Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again."_

She knew that he was in love with someone else. It was quite obvious to her. Felicia was no stranger to love and the sort. So when she saw the look on his face when she had walked into the bakery once, it felt like a heavy weight had came crashing down unto her. It felt like her whole being was crushed and she was glued to the spot, eyes wide with surprise as her usual smile seemed to be twisted. When he had glanced her way, she recomposed herself and gave him a cheerful smile regardless of what she had felt. She didn't want Ludwig to see, she didn't want Ludwig to know. She pushes herself forward with all her might, despite how most of her body had slackened. She had to get to Ludwig, she had to act normal. That was all that mattered.

"_I will always love you."_

And the song ends flawlessly without a skipped beat or a crack in her voice. It is just then that Felicia had realized that her cheeks were wet. When she brushed a hand over her rosy cheeks, she pulled back and looked, realizing that they were tears.

* * *

**A/N:**

Okay, I actually felt the need to explain (myself). I tried my hand at writing a romantic GerIta but I failed. Simply because it isn't really my cup of tea. I honestly see them as really best friends to the point that they consider each other as family. But I _do_ love the idea of one sided GerIta! Mainly on Italy's side. It doesn't mean I hate him. Italy is very precious to me.

I also skipped some lines to the song since while the paragraph was on going, she sings the rest of the verse. So it's 1 verse = 1 paragraph.

This won't be the last you'll see of Italy and you'll _definitely_ see Germany later on. Germany (Well, HRE rather) has a drabble slated this week. The actual Germany is the only confirmed one to have a drabble for the second week. I'm not telling when though, haha. As for Italy, I can't tell right now. Still arranging the weeks. But, oh well. See you in tomorrow's update of _'The Secret Life of Stills'_. Thank you for reading!


	4. Photo 3: Romance

**Best viewed in the ½ setting. And, Austria is playing a piece from Pride & Prejudice, **_**'The Secret life of Daydreams'**_**.**

**Pair: **Austria (Roderich Edelstein) and Hungary (Elizabeta Hedervary)

**Type of pair: **Romantic

**Word Count: **785

* * *

Kiku stood before a photograph, a glass of wine now in his hand. He simply stared at the portrait, taking in the details in. This time, he didn't know the story of this one, but at the same time he did. Because when he had been watching, he had been basing what happened on whatever he saw and he had missed what seemed to be the big action when a truck had come and blocked his view. When it had passed, she was laughing and he was embarassed. He didn't know what went ensued inside the shop. That was a secret he wasn't able to discover.

"In deep focus now, are we?" Felicia questioned taking a side Kiku.

He glanced at his companion and she beamed at him.

"I heard about these two. I could only imagine how it had happened."

Kiku's ears perked up. "You know them personally?"

"Of course! Elizabeta is a good friends of mine." Felicia responded. She stared at the picture, a smile dancing on her lips. "She told me about it."

* * *

**TITLE: Romance**

_It's a bust street with cars passing by. Across, the antique store front of a music shop had a baby grand on display. A man is hunched over, his back facing the outside world, as his arms are positioned as though he was playing a piece. It must've sound beautiful. A woman, dressed smartly, leaned against the side of the piano in an elegant posture, head titled down with a smile playing on her face. She had her eyes closed as she listened to whatever the man was playing._

* * *

Elizabeta smiled, taking in the melody Roderich was creating upon the ivory keys of the baby grand. The tone was calm and soothing, wonderfully played with a small hint of daydreaming factor to it. It almost felt as if Roderich was thinking of something as he played, something so delightful to have prompted such a lovely tune. Sometimes, it made Elizabeta wonder if he was thinking of her when he played. Then again, who ever knew what he was thinking? Roderich was a little bit of an unreadable person. Who ever knew what he was thinking of until asked? Elizabeta wanted to know, though she couldn't quite question him. Not just yet, not while he was playing a piece. It was rude to disturb a performer in the middle of his performance.

Perhaps the only reason he had brought her to this piano shop was to show her his latest masterpiece? He was very enthusiastic when it came to his hobby-his work. He was quite a virtuoso when it came to these things. Elizabeta doesn't think his love for her can compete with his undying passion for his piano. Regardless, the Hungarian woman had learned to accept it. Roderich was Roderich after all. Being Autrian, music flowed deep in his veins to the point it was almost a fundamental part to keeping him alive.

The piece soon comes to an meaningful end and Elizabeta opens her eyes slowly, gently, her green orbs unfocused. She discovered to see him looking right at her, violent ords displaying no other emotion other than focus. She offered him a smile as she spoke. "That was a wonderful piece, Roderich. What's it called?"

"The Secret Life of Daydreams." The man responded, making a move to pull down the cover of the piano. It shut with a light thunk, as it hid away the mix of white and black keys. Roderich still did not make a move to get up from his seat. "The tune had made me think when I was creating it." He added, palm now on his lap as he looked down.

Elizabeta's ears perked up.

"What were you thinking of?" She questioned. It was genuine curiosity. What did the tune make Roderich think of? Something trivial, or something deep? Despite having known him for years, Elizabeta still didn't understand the puzzle that was Roderich. He was almost like a maze; vast and confusing, he always surprised her. There were hidden secrets and dead ends, and sometimes treasure. The wonder that was called Roderich did not repulse her the same way it did others. In fact, it was what drew Elizabeta to him and became the first—and perhaps, the only woman he had ever come to love.

He looked away. She couldn't tell if he were feeling embarrassed or irritated at the question. But when he answered, she was genuinely surprised to the point that it had made her take a back take and blink a few times at the sudden confession.

"You."

It was only then that he stood, taking a few steps towards her. Roderich stopped before her and took a hand, holding it in his as he cupped another one over hers. "I was thinking about you." He repeated. A quick, fleeting moment passed before he tilted her head up, planting a quick kiss upon her soft lips before pulling back quickly.

Elizabeta flushed red, looking away as quickly as she could. Roderich seemed to have looked away in embarrassment as well. "Th – that was unexpected." She stammered, heart beating wildly in her chest. She looked back at him, face still flushed as she smiled. It may have been unexpected, but it didn't mean that she did not appreciate it. Because she did.

"I guess that it's a promise you love me." She said with a laugh.

It only made his cheeks flush a little bit darker. He continued to hold her hand in his, while his other hand fumbled for something in his pocket. He took out a mystery object and slipped it around her ring finger quickly. He let go soon after and took a step back, leaving Elizabeta to stare at it.

And she did, green eyes staring at a simple gold ring with a diamond shinning up at her, twinkling as if telling her that she had a bright future ahead-a future with Roderich. She looked uo in surprised, mouth slightly agape, as she stared at him, as he was looking away. Looking at something other than her since it was clear he was embarrassed. Hungary could only laugh as she kissed his cheek, which only made him red again.

"I would love to grow old with you, Roderich."

* * *

"It was simple, but I heard it was romantic." Felicia said with a smile.

Kiku glanced at her and Felicia returned the favor, smirking at him in secrecy.

"That's the Secret life of Stills, as you would say!" She laughed.

* * *

**A/N:**

So, Kiku got the taste of his own medicine, haha. I was panicking since I didn't know how to write Austria, but I risked it. I did as much research as I could in a small time frame but decided to just be eh. I don't know if you noticed it by now, but I really like writing heartfelt pieces. It's kind of my trademark. I like describing and setting moods and trust me-this won't be the only engagement/marriage piece you'll be seeing from me. There's another one this week. Well, I won't be around tomorrow so I've decided on my course of action already. On Saturday, we'll be having a double update special in lieu of Friday. On Monday, we'll have a double update as well in lieu of Sunday. Does that sound fair? I hope it does. See you on Saturday's update of _'The Secret life of Stills'_.


	5. Photo 4: Iridescent

**Best viewed in the ½ setting.**

**This is the drabble for April 25(Friday) that was skipped because of a beach trip.**

**No intro this time since I'm in a particular hurry to get all the drabbles done today. I still need to pack for the con.**

**Pair: **Denmark (Mathias Kohler) and Sweden (Berwald Oxenstierna)

**Type of pair: **Friendship

**Word Count:** 577

* * *

**TITLE: Iridescent**

_It was a cool summer night, and out in the beach there was a small infrastructure shaped like a box. There was only one solid wall in the small structure, with two pillars that held the terracotta roof up. It was painted a warm orange color. The three sides were all styled as counters with a wooden top, four stools surrounding all three sides. On the solid wall was a black board hammered onto it, complete with a menu of all types of alcoholic beverages._

_Two men were seated around, nursing a glass of beer. The man with wild golden haired was smiling at his companion, and the other was simply staring down at his drink, clearly frowning._

* * *

Their friendship was odd.

Most people would describe it as such since these two almost never seemed to get along. Mathias was loud and brash and over the top and considered to be frivolous to some. Berwald, on the other hand, was stoic and quiet. Most feared him and they never liked it when he stared at them. It was just too creepy. To see these two as friends was almost like viewing the apocalypse; it was almost like a strange sort of miracle that people didn't know how to take it. Positively or negatively? Most thought it was negative since, as children, the two were always fighting with each other and Mathias almost always came home crying out of defeat.

And so, to have seen Berwald and Mathias actually seated together in the beach's bar was a strange sort of miracle. A miracle that clearly said: _'am I really seeing this?' _to the viewers the looked on with curious eyes. The two can usually sit around the table with each other, but to see them quiet like this was almost as if it were something of a new thing. Mainly because Mathias always said something that angered the Swede, and vice versa.

"The salt air feels good, doesn't it?"

Berwald looked up from his glass of whiskey to see Mathias straight right at him with a smile. From the way the collections of candles glowed, it casted this strange golden glow over Mathias's featured. Sure, the Dane was handsome, but he was even more handsome under this glow. Berwald huffed and looked away, dimply giving out a hum of acknowledgement. "Perhaps."

Another round of silence between them.

Berwald, to be honest, knew how people viewed their friendship as a sort of miracle. He doesn't blame them, since it really _is_ a miracle of sorts. He didn't like Mathias. That was a given. Mathias was loud and brash, and downright _controlling_. He once had tried to control them, after all, deeming himself as a leader and depriving him of everything he almost had. They constantly fought like there was a war that had to be fought.

Berwald didn't like Mathias.

But that didn't mean he _didn't_ love him. In a familial way, of course (it once never crossed his mind that Mathias was a proper lover of the sorts; he couldn't bear the thought of waking beside Mathias in the morning in all his drool and snoring glory). They always fought over silly things. They always cussed each other out, and Berwald would always find him ridiculous. But at the end of the day, Berwald realized, that Mathias was perhaps the one of the people who knew him the best. Despite all the time they spent hating and berating each other, they knew each other like the back of their palms.

It was a love/hate relationship, as they say. And Mathias was one of the closest things he had to _family. _Family doesn't necessarily mean you have to get along with each other; there will always be siblings never getting along and going at great lengths to avoid each other, but at the end they always have each other. That's exactly what he had with Mathias.

Berwald's blue eyes glanced at his companion who is now busy smiling at the stars and he huffs again, a shadow of a smile on his face. Mathias was an idiot, but he was Berwald's idiot. That was all that mattered.

* * *

**A/N:**

Okay, ugh, that could've been better though my head ache is getting in the way. But then I decided to skip out on too much dialogue and opted for a line from each person. I focused much more heavily on the "internal monologue" here and tried to do a little speed something. Anyway, I tried to hint at the Kalmar Union while tossing in a few head canons such as that. I honestly pictured Den and Su having the same kind of relationship my best friend and I had-we both constantly fight, but in the end we are the ones that know each other the best. So yes. I'll just take a quick nap and I'll see you again in a few hours with today's actual drabble.


	6. Photo 5: Cold Feet

**Best viewed with the ½ setting.**

**Pair: **America (Alfred F. Jones) and Canada (Matthew Williams); mentions of Nyo!Prussia (Julchen Beilschmidt)

**Type of pair: **Familial

**Word Count: **633

* * *

Kiku had seated in the guest lounge after another walk around the gallery. Constantly being in the move had tired him out after a while. He sits with his usual Japanese grace, hands on his laps as he looks down at the coffee table only to see the cover of his little brochure. There were none left of the table, and it seemed as if the stack under had already reduced as well.

Kiku reached over and pulled out another set of three, stacking them presentable on the table before sitting back and relaxing. Tiring, but definitely a welcome sort. The gallery was still buzzing with life. The night may be old for Kiku as is, though he figured he didn't mind staying up. It was wonderful to watch things unfold around him.

He is cut from his sightseeing when a weight was dropped beside him. He checks his side out of curiosity and sees a man casually lounging, wine glass in hand. He was smirking at him and Kiku wasn't sure on how he's supposed to react exactly. Scoot away or stare silently? It seemed like he had something to say, so Kiku held his ground. He would be listening.

"I was wondering, Mister Honda, how much would that photograph be?" The man questioned before motioning across the lounge.

Kiku looks up, eyes following at the direction and sees the photograph of two blond men standing before a mirror. "The one with the mirror?" He questioned, looking back at the man who simply nodded as an answer. Kiku looked back at the painting.

"How much would it be?"

* * *

**TITLE: Cold Feet**

_Two blond figures stood in front of the mirror. They were both in crisp black suits, dressed up for a special occasion. They had similar face and body structures, as well as matching glasses perched on their noses. But the one with shaggy hair and violet eyes is nervous, hands tugging the hem of his blazer down. The other had his hands reassuring placed on the nervous one's shoulders and he was staring straight at the mirror with a smile as he spoke, appearing to reassure the other. The light in the room cast a gentle, reminiscing glow upon them and it created a dream-like effect._

* * *

"I'm really, really nervous." Matthew blurted out, tugging the hem of his blazer down.

Alfred chuckled. He placed both his hands on Matthew's shoulders reassuringly, in order to calm the other down even by just a big. "Got cold feet?" He teasingly questioned as he stared into the mirror as well, looking into the Canadian's furrowed browns and narrowed eyes that were both filled with worry. "You've got a big day ahead of you! Crack a smile for me, Mattie!" He chided nicely, shaking the other a bit to coerce him into smiling. Matthew did, but it was too nervous to even be considered a proper one.

Alfred pouted. "That ain't a smile. Feel it from your heart and beam! I mean, today's special so I'm sure you're really happy! Come on, like this! Eeee!" Alfred pulled the corner of his lips as far as he could, eyes closed as he practically beamed into the mirror. He even included matching sounds to lighten up the mood a bit. He calmed down after a moment to look back at Matthew.

"Come on, Mattie, try it!" He urged.

Matthew shook his head.

Alfred's enthusiastic smile fell. "Are you…this is really bad. Cold feet really freezing you too much?" He questioned, concern in his voice as he spun the other to face him. "Dude, I can't let you run away!" To have a groom disappear before his wedding…unspeakable! Sure, it has happened once in a while, but they were few and far between. Alfred can't imagine his glorious older half brother actually wanting to do exactly that to his bride. He had to convince him not to. It wasn't because Alfred will feel shame being this man's younger half brother, but simply because this day was _special_. He was supposed to feel happy, not feeling like he was signing a death sentence.

"You don't love Julchen?"

Matthew shoved Alfred lightly. "It's not like that! I love Julchen!" He responded quickly, voice nearing a yell. Alfred grinned, since it meant that Matthew really wasn't simply using the self-proclaimed Prussian for whatever reason in order to gain something.

"Then why does it look like you're about to sell your soul to the devil?" He questioned.

He was then faced with a weak punch directed at his face.

"I – It's not like that!"

Alfred laughed, letting go of Matthew in order to raise his arms up in the sign of surrender. He laughed for a while, before willing himself to calm down. He had to, since it would only continue to make Matthew feel more nervous. Once he was fully calm and reduced to a sighing mess, Matthew was already looking away, arms crossed and cheeks flushed. Alfred slung an arm around him shoulders.

"Y'know, dude, it's okay to be nervous." He said. When Matthew looked at him, he cracked a smile. "I mean, imagine it." He motioned to the empty space beside them, where there was nothing present but beautiful sun light streaming in from the windows. "Imagine your lovely Julchen walking down the aisle in the awesome white gown she had chosen. What would you feel?" He questioned. He could tell Matthew could picture it since he too, was staring at the empty space intently. He was probably thinking about it as well.

"I'd probably be thinking about how beautiful she looked."

Alfred drew Matthew closer. "Exactly. It's okay to be nervous because once the bride walks down the aisle, you'd want everything to get over and done with so you can do the do."

Matthew's mouth fell agape as he stared at his American half brother in horror, his red utterly red. And Alfred knew that Matthew was no longer as nervous as he was when he was faced with a upper cut coming his way.

* * *

Kiku chuckled. "Priceless."

The man tossed him a questioning glance at that answer and his seemingly amused expression. Sure, it was a great piece, but was it really priceless?

"Really?"

Kiku nodded. "Yes, priceless."

* * *

**A/N:**

I know they aren't twins, but I absolutely love the thought of Canada being the older brother. Alfred, in turn, is the younger one. I honestly see them having an awesome relationship. So I wanted to capture that here, in this very drabble. Sorry for the shameless plugging but, in my other fanfic, _Nevermore_, I explored it a little more.

Anyway, before we end today's update, we reached 5 drabbles, yay! I just wanted to point out that I'm honestly surprised that I have follows. Most especially four of them, I wasn't expecting that to come. So this shout out is for them! Thank you for following this story! It means a lot to me! I'll see you on Monday for the next update of _'The Secret life of Stills'_. I might be able to update tomorrow, but no promises. So double update Monday, yo! See ya!

Pssstttt…if it's not too much, but can you drop a review if you like it so far? I'm not requiring you to write one or anything, it's just a small request. I'm still gonna update anyway. Even with 0 reviews, haha! So no worries there my friend, if you don't want to, I'm completely okay with it! I won't threaten you with a _'Hohoho, if you I don't get 5 reviews, no next chapter for uuuuu.' _I really, really write a lot so y'know, I really always do update as often as I could.


	7. Photo 6: Monochrome

**This is the drabble for April 28 (Sunday), that was missed because of a convention.**

**Best viewed in the ½ setting.**

**Any way, to TurrinKuddush, since I can't pm you, thank you for your review! And there will indeed be a Spamano in the 2nd week ;3 When it's schedules is a secret though, teehee!**

**Pair: **Holy Roman Empire (Ludwig Beilschmidt) and Germania (Aldrich Beilschmidt)

**Type of Pair: **Familial

**Word Count: **636

* * *

"Isn't that…Aldrich Beilschmidt?"

"Aldrich? Really?" The two women loomed over the photograph.

"Didn't he pass away a few months ago?"

"He did. This photograph is rather old." Kiku said, sliding into the conversation with ease. "It was taken two years ago, on the Christmas before his death."He added.

* * *

**TITLE: Monochrome**

_The snow kissed earth, the warm glow of Christmas lights. In one glance, most could already hear the lively chime of Christmas carols filling the air. Snow gently fell from the sky as a lovely winter present. A huge tree filled the empty space of the town square in all its glory, full of cheer and hope with the twinkling lights and sparkling décor. A rather aged man with flowing, pale blond hair stood by its side, looking up, alone._

* * *

Christmas, the time when festivities went on happily and families bonded together over presents and happy meals such as chicken, turkey, and other recipes of the sort. The world was filled with Christmas Carols and a flurry of Christmas sales. A winter wonderland filled with cheer and good will. Aldrich Beilschmidt found himself in the town square, carrying a young Ludwig in his arms. The youngster didn't seem too happy to be carried around, but he wasn't openly complaining just yet. But Aldrich knew that he would be soon. He didn't like being carried or treated as a baby.

He placed a hand over his son's head. "Hush."

The figure shifted, but Aldrich ignored that and walked on, trudging through the snow. And in a few minutes, he made it to the lively town square, where people wandered out and about with family, listening to carols, lining up for Santa and other festivities that went on. Aldrich came to halt when he had arrived by the Christmas tree. It was only then that he pulled his son from under his coat and spun him in his arms, allowing him to face the Christmas Tree.

"Isn't it lovely, Ludwig?" He questioned. He repositioned his hand on the squirming child's head. "I always bring you here during Christmas, just to see the tree. I'm sure you like it." He added, looking down at the bundle that was staring up at him with displeasure. Aldrich huffed and smiled, ruffling the young boy's hair. "Don't be like that, don't you like it when your papa brings you here?"

He only looked away.

Aldrich frowned.

"You know, Ludwig. There is always the cycle of life and death. It goes on and repeats itself. Do you understand?" He began, looking up at the Christmas tree. He kept his hand still on the youngster's head. He felt him look up at him. "Today is the day, a life begins. A person is born from love and raised with such. Later on, as he grows, they would slowly begin to let him go in order to allow him to walk on his own two feet. Depending on upbringing and life experience, he will choose which path he takes." He added. At the end of that statement, he didn't look down at Ludwig. He just spoke on.

"There is a destructive one, and a prosperous one. It all depends which you choose to walk. Which one would you take? Later on, you can switch with the help of a split-second decision, but you can't go back. You just continue on from where you left off in the time and you just keep going forward. On and on, until you realize you're already at the end."

"You can't turn and walk back. That beats the purpose of being alive. You'll sit at the end and start to feel a flurry of things coming towards you. The feeling of loss, regret, and loneliness. It's what haunts you. And keeps you from going that last hurdle. But if you manage to think of the things you have achieved, and things you are content with it is then and then that you jump over the hurdle and face the cycle of rebirth."

It is only then that he looked down into his arms. "Do you understand, Ludwig?" The young boy in his arms nodded. Aldrich smiled tenderly at the small figure. Just as he had begun to lean down to plant a kiss on his son's forehead, a gush of the winter winds blew by and suddenly, just suddenly, Ludwig was gone.

Aldrich is alone.

He frowns, feeling the loss of his the closeness of his son. He looks back up at the Christmas tree, a silent moment of hope. A prayer left unanswered.

"…I must be hallucinating again."

* * *

"Oh, that explains quite a bit."

Kiku nodded. "It's a shame, really."

* * *

**A/N:**

Although Himaruya never clearly disproved or proved the HRE/Germany theory, my brother has told that Holy Roman Empire was indeed the back bone of Modern Day Germany. So I named HRE Ludwig as well (which could be very wrong but ugh at this point, it no longer matters to me). If, in _Iridescent_, it was more on internal monologue, in_ Monochrome,_ we are speech heavy.

But this marks the end for the first week of _'The Secret life of Stills'_! Well, I promised a double update Monday because of my lack of submission yesterday, so in a few hours, we'll have the 1st drabble for week 2!


	8. Photo 7: Sweet

**Best viewed in the ½ setting**

**This marks the start of the 2****nd**** week of the drabble set.**

**Pairing: **Germany (Ludwig Beilschmidt) and Nyotalia!Sweden (Agentha Oxenstierna)

**Type of Pair: **Blossoming feelings

**Word Count: **732

* * *

**TITLE: Sweet**

_It was the bakery located three blocks away from Kiku's art gallery, the one owned by Ludwig Beilscmidt. The interior was tastefully designed, cozy and warm with German influences apparent in every surface. Tables and chares are scattered about the place for the customers to sit around to their liking while tasting a slice of heaven. It's a café that allowed them to stay as long as they wanted, in order to savor the baked goods, a slice of haven for those who wanted to escape for a little while._

_By the cake display, the neat German who ran the store was close by, looking over as he waited patiently. He was looking over, eyes glued to the crouching figure or a blond woman, who was browsing through the selection of cakes._

* * *

It was not uncommon for Ludwig Beilschmidt to see Agnetha Oxenstierna in his little bakery. The older woman was one of his regulars. She usually bought a slice or two of cake for takeout, perhaps with the intent of sharing it with her intimidating older brother. She usually walked in at four in the afternoon, dressed in a crisp pantsuit, heels clicking against the floor boards with her hair up sign in a meticulous bun. Ludwig would always be there to greet her whenever she came, already by the display, box and container ready and all for whatever she would choose. They often chatted a bit about the cake; nothing but professional chatter and small talk. It's not enough to call them friends because that would be too much of a label. If Ludwig had to name it, they were more of becoming friends. Not exactly acquaintances, not exactly friends either. It was simply like that.

Today, though, today was different. Ludwig was able to tell it when he took his post at exactly four in the afternoon and Agnetha had walked in, heels and all. Though today was different, Ludwig was able to tell as such when he had noticed it. Gone were the usual pantsuits she wore. For today, she was dressed neatly, almost like governess in a beige capelet dress. What struck him as the most off of it all was her hair, let loose with a white flower pulling away a few strands from her hair. It was odd to see her like that in Ludwig's eyes, but quite a pleasant change none the less.

"What would you be having today?" He asked calmly in his thick, German accent as she had approached the counter and crouched down to browse the treats. He almost had to step back when the scent of her perfume wafted into the air surrounding him. It didn't smell unpleasant oh no. It was dreadfully pleasant. He had a feeling that if he didn't step back, it would overwhelm him. He decided to ignore the sweet fragrance wafting around him and leaned over, glancing at the blond that was browsing the selection. As stern as always, eyes set into her usual serious expression as she scrutinized the cakes. It was probably a hereditary thing. He's seen her older brother hang around his bakery sometimes with the little Finnish man, and he definitely had the same, narrowed eyes.

"I'm not quite sure." Agnetha had admitted from below. She was still browsing through the display. Ludwig felt the need to reach over and brush those lovely strands away, but then he held his ground. He was beginning to feel awkward. There was an awkward churn in his stomach that made him want to duck and hide far away—away from where he was standing now. He looks away quickly, in a faint distress to distract himself from the odd feeling that was beginning to grow, but he could not. Not when he was highly aware that she was close by.

"I'll have this cake."

Eh?

Ludwig abruptly turned to face her. What did she say? It quickly registered in his head when he realized she was pointing over at something and he crouched down as well to view what she was pointing at. He glanced at her and their eyes met for a few second, her sea blue ones boring into his and he quickly looked away. He distracted himself by pilling out the slice of short cake she had wanted, a plump strawberry looking up at him from the little mountain of icing. He wondered if her lips—He caught himself about to glance back at her, but he is thankful when she stands up. It meant that he didn't have to deal with this.

Ludwig stood up as well and tucked the slice into the little cake box he had prepared. He labeled it properly before he handed it over to her, who in turn handed the payment. He watched as she walked away, skirt swishing as she went and her hair flowing right behind her. It is only then that he noticed the light hop she had in her steps. Wait, does she usually hop? Ludwig couldn't tell. Agnetha had passed by someone—someone he knew. Ludwig's gaze averted towards the figure and he saw Felicia, her smile crestfallen and frozen in place.

* * *

**A/N:**

I promised to put up yesterday's drabble, but I ended up missing it because of a flooding emergency.

This is quote connected to _Lovesong_. I think you've noticed it. Anyway, as a quick explanation, I do ship SuGer. It's my OTP. But that doesn't mean I'm not flexible, since I very much am. I got nyo!Sweden's name from one of ABBA's band members, since her name is Agnetha. I found it appropriate.

As I wrote this drabble, it gave me a fuzzy feeling inside. I remembered how people described what it was like to be falling in love, and well, I remembered the one with my love. Awkward cuteness, haha. I'll see you in a while with today's actual drabble.


	9. Photo 8: Strength

**Best viewed in the ½ setting.**

**Pair: **Spain (Antonio Carriedo Hernandez) and Romano (Lovina Vargas)

**Type of pair: **Fluffy familial romance (yes, wootwoot)

**WORD COUNT: **697

* * *

Kiku glanced at the photograph and smiled. He wondered how the club owner was doing. He figured he should be dropping by again. Perhaps one day, in the near future. Just not now, while he was running the art gallery.

"Are you happy?" He questioned out loud, hands reaching out as he caressed the Sintra board lightly with his finger tips.

* * *

**TITLE: Strength**

_A hospital. Dreaded walls of white, identical minty green plastic seat that were uncomfortable if you sat too long in one position. There was an obligatory vase of flowers on the side. It did nothing to lighten up the grave, dreary place up. To the left of the image sat a man with curling, chocolate brown hair, head hung low as his hands were clamped together in a desperate praying position. His knuckles were white. Beside him sat Felicia Vargas, face cheerful she placed a hand on his back. To the right, there is a bleached white door, with the sign glowing red above the door._

* * *

Worry.

The new emotion that replaced his excitement and anticipation was worry and anxiety. It is at a moment like this that you hang on a scale of fifty-fifty. You are at the mercy of fate. Antonio fumbled with his hands. The chance of death, the chance of life. How do you cheat death? Will anyone even die today? Antonio shook his head, she shouldn't be thinking such things. But at the same time, he couldn't avoid it. This was Lovina they were talking about. That woman may be loud and brash, but she was still Lovina. She was still human. No matter how strong she may seem, she too is subjected to Fate and her decisions.

A hand is placed upon his back. Antonio doesn't need to look up to know it's Felicia. She does rush to Lovina's side whenever she hears that she's in trouble. Despite all their differences, the sisters still remain close as is. "She'll be fine." Felicia said, her voice breaking through the heavy silence. Antonio looks up at her, and he nods. He's probably white with worry. Felicia had tossed him a smile after all.

"I'm sure you're excited. I mean, y'know. A family and all that. Don't look so grave." She chirped lightly. It was only then that Antonio straightened up, back leaning against the back rest of the seat. His green eyes looked at Felicia. "Do you really think so? I mean, what if..." He gulped. He was genuinely worried. He couldn't imagine a future without Lovina. She usually made sure the club went on without much a knot just in case he, Francis, or Gilbert had screwed something up. If ever something went wrong with Felicia's nightly segment, she was also the one who patched things up as well. He couldn't imagine solving things without the Italian. It was just...impossible.

Felicia gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Now, now, Antonio. Lovina isn't dying. She'll be back in a while and you'll be happy. Just picture it."

Antonio looked up at the white ceiling, attempting to picture the beautiful Lovina, as grumpy as always as she marched around the house. Even when she was pregnant with their first child, the woman was still active on her feet, even though she was slowly wadding around. At one point, it had taken him, Francis, Gilbert, and Felicia all at the same time just to get her to sit still. The simply thought of the pouting woman made Antonio smile.

"She was always so strong willed." He said, and he shut his eyes slowly as the thought of her filled his head. The light pattering of small feet began to fill his head as a small voice began to chant 'Daddy! Daddy' as the little tyke spread his arms out. He could imagine leaning down just to pick up the little bundle and raise the child up into the air while Lovina watched on, worried perhaps, as she told him off. Everything snaps back into focus when the sudden cries of a new born babe broke the still silence of the hospital hallway. It made both Felicia and Antonio look into the direction of the room.

Felicia turned to face him.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" She questioned with a smile.

And just as the door began to slide open just for the nurse to call for him, Antonio bolted right up and past her, without even waiting to be called. He sits by her side and looks over, seeing the new born in Lovina's arms. He coos just as the little bundle began to wiggle, obviously pouting.

"Took you a while, idiot." Lovina huffed as she looked away, cheeks still red and obviously tired.

Antonio laughs and leans over to kiss Lovina's temple, before he cooed once more at his child. He extends a finger and the baby seemed to have understood, cheeks still puffed as he pouted before his small hand wrapped itself around Antonio's pinky rather tightly.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now." Antonio responded, beaming a bright smile. He leans over and snuggles close to his wife, before exhaling in relief. "I'm here for the both of you."

* * *

Kiku smiled at the memory. "I wonder what you named him, Antonio."

* * *

**A/N:**

So, admittedly I wanted to do some daddy Spain fluff and I also had this Spamano swimming in my head for a while now. To be honest, I really haven't finalized any of the week 2 pairings yet. I'm writing as I go with my ideas as they've been running dry as of late (but for some odd reason, I still have enough to keep drabbles coming out). There's actually a HUGE chance you'll be seeing Spain again this week. As to when that would be, I can't tell just yet. But yeah, we're back on track with the regular updates! See you tomorrow in _'The Secret Life of Stills'_.


	10. Photo 9: Incredulous

**Best viewed in the ½ setting**

**BEWARE: There will be A LOT of cursing in this chapter. I hope you have your profanity filters on if you're sensitive.**

**Pair: **England (Arthur Kirkland) and Scotland (Ian Kirkland)

**Type of Pair: **Familial

**Word Count: **756

* * *

**Title: Incredulous**

_A hospital room bathed in darkness. There is nothing but the dim glow of a candle on the birthday cake, casting unearthly orange glow on the two occupants that sat beside each other on the bed. The blond was looking down in awe and at the same time, disbelief at the cake that had been bestowed upon him. The other just stared at him intently, as if expecting him to blow the candle already._

* * *

"Well? Aren't ya gonna blow yer candle?"

Arthur's eyes slowly shifted from his cake, to his brother, and back at his cake. He really can't believe what was happening right now, exactly. After having taken him out for a walk, Ian had disappeared for weeks on end and he hadn't heard from his older brother since. Arthur had accepted that Ian was only there on a spur of the moment decision. Oddly enough as well, he had begun to get better after the small encounter. Still as sick, but at least he was recovering. And suddenly, as if the heavens had willed it, his birthday had came and there was nothing but text greetings from everyone. No one had bothered to visit, no one had bothered to call. All of them simply left him a message. And here Ian came once more, stepping into his room with a paper party hat in pink with embarrassing teddy bears and cartoon character printed on it perched on his head, a party whistler hanging between his lips while carrying a small white cake in his hands with a singular lit candle. And he looked absolutely stupid (and hilarious).

The sight of him had made Arthur laugh quite a bit, before being reduced to a coughing fit of a mess. The little incident had forced Ian to sit on the bed by his side, just to keep Arthur slightly warmer. Well, Ian did put a pink party hat on him as well, just to put on a festive mood.

"Arthur, just blow yer fucking candle." Ian urged, hitting his head. The sick Englishman glared at his brother, before looking down at his cake. "Don't rush me, I'm making a wish." Arthur responded. He looked back down at his cake and closed his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths as he tried to think of what to wish for. Of course, it seemed like Ian didn't share the same sentiment. The red head had just scoffed after all.

"I can't believe ya still believe in all that fairytales and magical crap."

Arthur could tell he had crossed his arms. So common of Ian.

Nothing came into Arthur's mind; nothing much of a grand wish or anything. Well, perhaps for a speedy recovery. Otherwise, he's actually doing better. He opened his eyes and breathed out. He crossed his arms over his chest, to ward away the cold. Even with Ian's warm body beside him, the cold air of the hospital room still made him shiver.

"Well? Ya ready to blow yer candle?" Ian questioned sitting up. Apparently, he had already relaxed on the bed and pretended the party whistler was a moustache. He still pulled a hilarious duck face as he held the prop in place. The view made Arthur scoff, half amused and half incredulous. "I've been waiting." He added.

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned forward.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"

But he smirked instead, pulling Ian's leg by barely bringing his face close to the candle, but not exactly blowing it. He could feel the frustration building up in his brother's end, and Ian gave out a grunt.

"_Arthur._"

The Englishman smiled, satisfied with himself. He felt a hand position itself behind his head and the candle's flame had suddenly gone out and it disappeared in a flash-

_SPLAT!_

"THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR?!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling himself back quickly. Icing and cake bits covered his face in a thick layer of sweet make-up. He looked like a clown made out of cake, with his pink party hat and cake frosting. All the bits of his small cake—all on his face. This was clearly the Scot's fault. He couldn't help but mourn the loss of a sweet cake just as the Scot simply just chortled beside him, almost looking as if he was going to double over from laughter.

"Did ya really think that I would let ya blow yer cake as easy as that, _little brother?_" The red head asked once he had calmed down, teasingly tracing a finger on Arthur's frosted cheek, taking some of the cake. The action made Arthur feel a little nervous as he turned a little bit bright red, a churn in his stomach knotting just as Ian tasted whatever he was able to get.

"Mmm. Tastes great."

Unnerving.

"You bloody fuck!" Arthur exclaimed as he served a punch right at Ian's face, thus managing to flip him off the bed. Obviously, Ian wasn't offended as he was a laughing heap on the floor as he stared at Arthur's bright red face that was apparent through the small gaps in the frosting.

"Happy birthday to ya, Arthur!"

* * *

**A/N:**

This is actually a special drabble for my England! Happy birthday, dear. She's actually the England to my Scotland, and trust me when I say this, we do have chances of acting like this when we're alone, hahaha. Well, apparently Arthur's birthday was April 23rd as well, so happy belated to our beloved thick eye browed Brit! This is it for today's update! I'll see you in tomorrow's update of _'The Secret Life of Stills'_.


	11. Photo 10: Spring Blossoms

**Best viewed in the ½ setting.**

**As of yesterday, we will already be skipping the intro pieces as I'm starting to have less time writing them. I'm beginning to formulate a few short stories, so I'd like to focus on them with these as small pick me ups.**

**A companion piece to Cold Feet**

**Pair: **Nyotalia duo: Prussia (Julchen Beilschmidt) and Germany (Monika Beilschmidt)

**Type of Pair: **Sisterly bond

**Word Count: **679

* * *

**TITLE: Spring Blossoms**

_A bride stands upon the pedestal, dressed in lovely whites covered in lace, trimmings, and pearls. Mirrors surround her on all sides, giving her a full view of what she looked like. She was admiring herself; how the gown complimented her milky skin, and how her hair was lovely in a bun, decorated by blossoms of spring. A lace veil was draped nicely over her head and she was definitely lovely. An illusion of all white with a hint of lovely rose pink lips and ruby red eyes. She was the statuesque figure of the bride today—the diva of the show. Behind her, a blond who is equally as lovely was fixing the ribbon on her back._

* * *

Today was her special day. Today was the day she unites with Matthew under matrimony, the simple act of uniting two hearts into one. The simple thought made Julchen excited, it made her happy. Genuinely happy. Nervousness? What nervousness? There was no sort of fear or anxiety in the way she moved, just overflowing giddiness and impatience. You could tell from the way she often brushed a hand over her skirt, and the way she kept repositioning her grip on her bouquet. She was awesomely ready, and she made sure she was beautiful—awesomely beautiful to the point she could probably serve Matthew a nosebleed. Yes, she wanted that. She wanted to sweep him off his feet yet again.

She probably would've started hopping on her feet if only she weren't in stilettos. Well, and if Monika weren't in the room either. Julchen could trust her little sister to be neat and clean and overly organized. It was the main reason why she had asked her to be the Maid of Honor. She was Julchen's best and she was definitely worth the honor of being the closest to the bride. She always looked out for her the same way Julchen watched out for her little sister.

"Julchen, please stop hopping. I'm trying to fix your ribbon properly."

Whoops, so maybe she really was hoping not…say, imaginary hoping. "Sorry, Mon." She responded, trying her best to keep still. Though there was a deep pit in her stomach that simply just did not allow her. She began to sway side to side, admiring the way her fluffy skirt flowed with her movements, and how the veil flowed with the wind. It made a smile bloom on her face as she beamed at herself. She was very, very satisfied with the outcome. Now she really can't wait to waltz down the aisle! Forget the wedding band, she'll just march straight up to Matthew and be her awesome self. She don't need no slow walk to look exuberantly pretty. But then again…didn't the brides always walk slowly down the aisle to rub it in everyone's faces that she was beautiful? Julchen snickered at the idea.

"Julchen, please."

The albino stopped and looked back, only to see the annoyed looked of her younger sister. Julchen gave a crooked smile in apology. "I really can't help it okay, I feel awesomely beautiful!" She exclaimed, practically spreading her arms out in the air. She looked up as her bouquet flew straight up and away—and Monika had grabbed it properly before the blossoms could smash themselves on the floor. She drew back and smiled sheepishly when Monika had given her a glare. "Come on, wouldn't you feel the same way if you were gonna get married?" She questioned, veil flipping when there was an absence of hair. "I can't wait!"

A sigh from Monika.

"I don't think I'll ever get married." The younger sister muttered, handing back the bouquet of flowers as she fixed Julchen's veil. The elder sister's smile fell upon hearing those words. "Why not? You're awesomely lovely!" Julchen retorted. She placed a hand on her sister's face and tilted it up slightly, mainly to get a good look. Sure, Monika was on the boyish side in terms of facial features but that didn't mean she wasn't pretty.

Julchen smiled a bit before looking down at her bouquet and plucking off an Easter lily from the bunch. She gently brushed some of Monika's cropped bangs away and tucked it behind her earn, before cupping a hand on her sister's cheek. "You're lovely." She simply said, smiling gently. It seems as if in that very moment, her sister had started to feel the same sentiment. A small smile blossomed on her face.

It made Julchen crack an even larger smile. "So don't be a stranger! Have fun later!" She exclaimed before cackling with laughter. In a split second, Monika gasped in surprise and turned beat red, before playfully smacking Julchen and looking away. Regardless, a large smile had blossomed on her face, accepting the joke.

* * *

**A/N:**

So, I just wanted to write some sibling PruGer fluff. Is this even fluff? IDK. I just wanted to write a full on description on the awesome feeling Prussia might feel being a pretty bride, hahaha. I'm not sure if I'll be updating tomorrow, since I'm gonna be working on a short story for my OTP. But it looks like I will. We'll see. See you in the next update of _'The Secret Life of Stills'_!


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